


In service to the crown.

by SuperImposed



Series: Kinkfills: Happy Smut Edition [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluffy Smut, Frottage, Kinkfill, M/M, Please ignore the existence of the bed, Royalty AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1295893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperImposed/pseuds/SuperImposed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Flipped Hemospectrum with Karkat as Emperor, or in this case King.<br/>Equius is a STRONG lowblood who has intense Red feelings for his King.<br/>They proceed to have secret, gentle sex in the King's chambers.</p><p>Inspiration: http://sukkadoesfilthythings.tumblr.com/post/11786981972/king-karkat-and-knight-archer-something"</p>
            </blockquote>





	In service to the crown.

**Author's Note:**

> http://homesmut.livejournal.com/12138.html?thread=23819626#t23819626

Karkat - _King Vantas_ \- doesn’t even look at the door when the knock comes. “Enter,” he snaps, voice hoarse from reprimanding the court all day.  
  
The door opens with exaggerated care, and closes even more cautiously. The king would sigh, but in truth it’s a mannerism he’s fond of, and a necessary one.  
  
Knees drop to the ground; one armored fist lightly touches down, cradled in an old dent in the stone. “My lord,” breathes that heavenly voice, as tired as he feels and so incredibly _welcome_.  
  
“Arise,” Karkat intones, as he does every night the two can meet. He hears the hesitant jingle of mail behind him. The royal stretches out his left arm without a glance, for all the world absorbed in the tapestry before him.  
  
Even more hesitant, even more careful, fingers close lightly around the king’s hand. Quaking digits free him oh-so-slowly from the heavy gold rings, each symbolic of something and not to be forgotten, lest he slight some country he’s never heard of or starts a war.  
  
Left index. Left middle, the first ring, moving on to the slender trio on the left ring finger. Pinkie cap eased off, other middle ring slipped away. Finally, the shaking hands of his _loyal knight_ close around the bulky thumb ring, too large for the minuscule king yet always a trial to remove.  
  
Karkat closes his eyes and lifts his chin, tension draining as the warm metal peels away to clink into the ring holder. He feels damp breath on his wrist before he hears the clasps of his bracer opening, starting near the elbow and moving towards the hand. Then the gold snake armlet, life surging painfully back into flesh as it goes. As soon as it’s free of his fingertips the king drops his arm, waiting until he hears movement behind him, and the silence after.  
  
Karkat swings up his right arm, repeating the ritual. By now tremors run through his body, his eyes flutter with the effort to stay shut and the desire to snap open. The vassal fumbles with the clawtip around the middle finger, as always, and Karkat nearly collapses. It has been so long....he wants to do away with this silly play; he knows he must not.  
  
Karkat bows his head as the figure moves in front of him, lifting the heavy crown with ease. The royal sighs with relief and finally opens his eyes, smiling softly at the troll before him. A ring-marked hand rises to caress the knight’s cheek.  
  
“My king,” he breathes, an invocation.

“I’ve missed you.“ Barely a whisper, a shock to any who knew the irate ruler, as is the broadening smile playing at his lips.  
  
A large hand cups his own. “And I you.” Equius draws the smaller troll’s hand to his mouth and kisses it delicately. It is not an act of rigid formality.  
  
At an unspoken signal, the knight turns away and kneels. Karkat lets his weighty royal cape slip to the floor, running his small hands over much-worshiped muscles. He removes the remaining armor with care, reigning in as much of his excitement as possible. The larger troll shakes too, obviously just as desperate as his ruler.  
  
The chain mail goes - then the rough-spun shirt, the belt, the boots. Equius faces his king, expression forcibly impassive as Karkat removes one glove with quivering fingers, nearly fumbling and dropping it. The next slides off easily, and the two trolls pause a moment, forcing their breaths to quiet as they contemplate their opposite. They are beyond ritual now. It is a matter of who will make the first move.  
  
An inexperienced observer would think this to be Karkat, as he steps forward to trace his fingers lightly down the muscled torso before him. His red, red eyes flicker up to the face of his lover, and Equius takes the lead.  
  
With exquisite care, the knight kneels to wrap his arms around his master. Karkat gasps, then croons, melting into the embrace. The warrior lifts him as easily as a child and lays him on the bed, small form caged by large figure. Equius slowly leans down, pressing his scarred and chapped lips to Karkat’s.  
  
Karkat wraps his arms around the larger troll’s head, kissing as deep and hard as he can. He knows his knight’s limits better than anyone. Short, round fingers find and play over the knight’s horns, making him shudder with need and parting his lips in a silent moan. Large hands rake rapidly and harmlessly down the royal’s back, making him arch his skinny chest against the bigger troll’s ribcage.  
  
Karkat slips his hands down his vassal’s back, hooking into Equius’s rough trousers and giving them an insistent yank. The warrior bends one knee against the bed and helps remove the offending garment with haste.  
  
Karkat’s expensive and much-hated clothes disappear soon after; the two don’t bother with penetration, rutting needily against each other with increased abandon. Karkat would take a moment to admire Equius’s ironclad control, even now careful not to harm his master; but then the royal’s head is flung back, and he cries out, roughly. Soon after his knight gives that well-favored keen, and warmth swamps them both.  
  
Equius collapses, oh-so-carefully, atop his king, who strokes his sweaty hair, an amused and contented smile in place. He leans tiredly in to the knight’s ear. “It’s good to have you back.”


End file.
